


My Wicked Tongue

by moonlightof1982



Series: Haunted [6]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-14
Updated: 2015-01-14
Packaged: 2018-03-07 13:30:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3174974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonlightof1982/pseuds/moonlightof1982
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Petyr and Sansa make up for lost time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Wicked Tongue

“AHHHH!”, wailed Sansa, as she erupted hard and fiercely. Her breasts were out-thrust, her back was in a deep arch, and her hair was disordered, and spread out over the sheets. She could feel the hot juices leaking out of her. It had a sugary, and pungent odor that filled the low-lit chamber. Her eyes remained with his, as she came down from her mountain of Ecstasy. She struggled with her breathing as she tried to grasp hold of her composure. 

“Tsk, Tsk, Tsk!” said Petyr, shaking his head. “What am I going to do with you?” “First, you leave a fire blazing in my hearth!” “You spill ink all over my desk!” “You ruin my important documents!” “Drink up my wine!” “Then you have the astonishing, breathtaking gall to play with your delicious nub without me?” 

Sansa giggled lightly, and with her eyes on Petyr, provocatively licked the sticky juice from her fingers.

Petyr walked over to the bed, and with a mischievous gleam in his eyes, whispered, “Oh, my darling Sansa, you have been a very bad girl while I was away.” “You need Discipline!” With the candle still in his hands, Petyr tilted it, and let a few drops of the hot candle wax fall to her belly. Sansa inhaled sharply, and with that small maneuver by Petyr, she found herself getting riled up all over again. 

Petyr gently placed the candle on the night table, and without any warning, he yanked her out of the bed, and pinned her to the doorway. Her face was pressed against the bolted door. Petyr wrenched her head back by her thick mop of red hair and kissed her slow and deep, his tongue mingling with hers. A weak-kneed Sansa clawed her fingernails into the door for support. 

“I have gifts for you, my sweet.” “Spread your legs!”, commanded Petyr. “Further!” “That’s it! “Close your eyes, and remember to breathe!”

Out of the saddlebag Petyr was carrying, he pulled out a veined, and rippled Glass Phallus. Petyr laved the instrument with his tongue, and said, “Lean into me, my sweet.” Sansa, the ever-ready submissive, did as she was told.

He dropped the saddlebag on the floor, and in an instant, the glass instrument was inside her wet, and heated sex. Her eyes widened, and her mouth gasped from it’s cold bite… but it soon warmed up. Sansa leaned her head back onto Petyr’s shoulder, and howled with blinding pleasure. She instantly loved her gift, and hoped this would not the be last time she would be using it. Up and down, and round and round it went! A squeaking sound came alive as Petyr thrust it into her. He could feel her creamy secretions soaking the glass and his hands. She was rubbing her perfect bottom seductively against his still covered cock. Sansa and Petyr were in the Seven Heavens! 

“Faster, Petyr!”, pleaded Sansa. “Like That!” “I’m Close!” Petyr grabbed her hips from behind, and bent her over so the Phallus could sink deeper. With his free hand, Petyr pinched one of her nipples. Sansa screamed! Her sex became a flowing waterfall, drenching Petyr’s hand! Her knees buckled, and she nearly passed out from the sensations. She was weak, incoherent, and practically had no strength left in her legs. He pressed her full body weight onto him. Petyr held her gently, his arms around her belly, and kissing the nape of her neck, for what seemed like an age, until her senses finally returned.

“Did you enjoy your gift?” asked Petyr, with a evil grin on his face. A starry eyed Sansa replied breathlessly, “Yes.” “More than I ever thought possible!” He placed the slick Phallus into her hand, and with Her Wicked Tongue, began to lick, and suck it clean. Sansa turned around, and surveyed Petyr. “Why do you have all those clothes on?”, she asked, an innocent look in her eyes. “How does she do that”, Petyr thought. “How does she manage to ignite my passions, and maintain her innocence?” Before he could think of an answer, Sansa dropped the Phallus on the stone floor, slammed him against the door, and was ripping through his tunic, mumbling, “How do you get this damned thing off?” 

His cock hardened, and burned, with hot blood coursing through it. A moment later, Sansa was on her knees, with his leaking member in her mouth. Her head and neck were loose, but her mouth was tight, and engulfing around him. Petyr frantically gripped the doorknob, and tried with all of his might to hold back his moans, and release. As she devoured his cock, he tried to think of anything he could; The Long Winter, the lords of the Vale, and the vain hopes of stripping him of his power, but it did not work. All Petyr saw was her, naked, holding her new glass toy, her wet, and stuffed mouth, glossy and dripping with…

“Oh, Fuck!" "Yes!” “Don‘t Stop!” “AHHHH!”, moaned Petyr. He thrust, and finished wildly into her mouth. His breathing was ragged, and sweat formed on his forehead. His eyes blinked rapidly, as he came down from his pleasure. 

After she spit out Petyr’s seed, he took her hand, and led his sensual lady to their bed. He picked up the glass toy, and placed it on the night table next to the bed. He held her lovingly, and firmly in his arms, and caressed her back with his fingers. Sansa laid her head on his scarred chest, and relaxed. They were more at peace then they had been in the past fortnight.

“I missed you so much, Sansa.” confessed Petyr. 

“I missed you too.” “These two weeks have been unimaginable.” “You wouldn't believe the thoughts running through my mind.” “I dreamed I was a chained direwolf, wanting nothing more than to get out!”

“Is your wolf free now?” asked Petyr, lowering his head, and looking into Sansa’s eyes.

“Yes.” “Only with you, is my inner wolf free.” said Sansa, calmly.

Petyr rolled on top of Sansa, caressed her face, and said, “I love you, Sansa.”

Sansa was surprised at his declaration! She never thought she would hear Petyr say that to her. His lust for her was so potent, that she thought that was all he had to offer. She was happily pleased to be wrong. A lone tear streamed down her cheek. “I love you, too, Petyr.” “I never thought I could feel like this.”, confessed an emotionally moved Sansa.

Petyr wiped the tear away, and kissed her gently. Sansa eyes reflected a pure innocence, which once again mystified Petyr. She was like a virgin again. He kissed the neck softly and slowly. He nibbled at her breasts, and suckled them delicately. His fingers interlocked with hers. Sansa could feel his warm breath on her skin. She gently bit down on, and licked his bare shoulder. 

He made love to her as it if were the first time. As they reunited, she remembered her first night with Petyr. It hurt when he put himself inside of her, but it was the sweetest hurt she’d ever felt. Nothing felt as wonderful as him making love to her for the first time. She found herself, once again, lost in the same painful pleasure she experienced on that first fateful night.

He rode her gently, rocking her slowly, deliberately, to let her know, and feel how much he wanted her. He never let his loving and lustful gaze leave hers. “You’re so wet, Sansa!“ “So warm!“ “So tight!”, whispered Petyr, completely intoxicated. “And all yours!”, answered Sansa, moaning breathlessly. He kept his pace deep and steady, not rushing, but savoring the wicked sensations their hot bodies created. Tender moments later, they both meandered over the edge. They were lost in the reaches of Ecstasy, the softness of the Myrish Lace, the perfect feel of each other, and finally that night, the relaxing nothingness of sleep. 

 

***

Sansa woke to the sun pouring through the window. The candle beside the bed, had burned out, and melted completely away. “Poor candle”, Sansa thought, sleepily. “It was a long night, wasn't it.” A modest smile graced her face, as she looked at the pitiful display of melted wax. She had to work to get herself to move. She was wonderfully sated, but completely exhausted from last night's jubilee. Her limbs were weak, and she certainly could have used a few hours more of sleep... but she had to be up for Sweetrobin, so she struggled out of bed, put on her night shift, and tied the laces of her robe. 

Petyr was not there, but she knew he was probably in his solar, at his desk. As she ran her fingers through her disheveled hair, she found that her hand was stuck in between her tresses. “What the…” Sansa exclaimed, confused. It took a quick moment for her to free her hand, and when she finally managed to pull her trapped digits out of her hair, she surprisingly saw, on her ring finger of her left hand, a silver ring with a ruby stone.

**Author's Note:**

> I kept you waiting long enough.


End file.
